returning home
by EvanesDust
Summary: Derek sighs as his temple rests against the small plexiglass window of the plane. He'd give anything to be home. After what felt like forever, which in all actuality was since he'd been gone for nearly 18 months, he's finally returning from deployment.


Derek sighs as his temple rests against the small plexiglass window of the plane. He'd give anything to be home. After what felt like forever, which in all actuality _was _since he'd been gone for nearly 18 months, he's finally returning from deployment.

He tugs on the neck of the hoodie he's wearing, bringing it to his nose as he chases the long lost scent of his mate. _Soon_, he thinks. He'll be home soon. And honestly, he can't wait to see the look on Stiles's face since he's back about a month earlier than expected. Hopefully Stiles is happier about his early return than upset about Derek keeping it a secret. He just wants to surprise him.

Somehow Derek manages to fall asleep despite the turbulences and his excitement and doesn't wake until the jostle of the plane landing. Only another two, maybe two and a half hours until he's home, depending on how fast he can get through the airport, hail a taxi and, of course, get through traffic.

Just shy of those two hours, Derek thanks the cab driver for the speedy trip and places a generous tip into his hands. He jogs up the steps to the front door and stops to rub his hands over his thighs, wiping the sweat away. His body is a war of emotions at seeing Stiles for the first time in well over a year. He sucks in the crisp night air, blows out a harsh breath and opens the door quietly, knowing it would be unlocked.

The house is still and dark, which makes sense at this late hour. He lets his vision adjust for a moment before navigating through since he doesn't want to ruin his surprise by turning on all the lights. Luckily, it's a straight path to the stairs leading to their bedroom.

A soft glow from the living room catches his eye so he stops and looks in, barely containing a chuckle as he sees the blanket fort in the center of the room. Derek is impressed; it's reminiscent of what they built when they were teens, escaping the pain of breakups or the tragedy of losing parents too soon, their home away from home where they could seek comfort in each other. The Christmas lights twinkle as they hang off the blankets and, in the middle, wrapped up like a burrito, is his mate.

There's a pang in his heart as he sees that Stiles is sleeping with Derek's high school basketball jersey placed over a pillow. He imagines Stiles laying his head on the school logo as he would years ago, curled up, ear over the calming, steady thrum of Derek's heart.

He moves through the room on silent feet, tip-toeing over a few books and Stiles's laptop, tossed aside in clear haste of making the fort. Ducking his head, Derek drops gently to his knees and crawls in next to Stiles, careful not to wake him. He sits for a moment, reacquainting himself with Stiles's face, making sure he still remembers every freckle and mole, like he would when he was deployed, lying awake at night, desperately recalling Stiles's face, worried he'd forget. There are some differences he notes; a few more lines of worry around Stiles's mouth that weren't there so long ago, but one thing hasn't changed: how handsome Stiles is. Derek doesn't know how he lucked out with not only a beautiful mate, but one that's so kind and caring and supportive.

His fingers trace a familiar pattern over Stiles's cheek and he smiles softly when Stiles stirs, eyes slowly blinking open. It amazes Derek that Stiles always knows it's him, never freaking out at his unexpected presence, even when Derek would climb in through his bedroom window when they were younger.

"You have a beard…" The voice is soft but rough and warms Derek's heart.

"Didn't stop to shave."

"Good." The blankets are unwrapped and long arms reach out to pull him close. "Shoulda told me. Almost wasn't home tonight."

"Been staying at Scott's?" he asks, knowing Stiles doesn't always care to stay in the house alone.

"Dad's… but he went on a fishing trip this weekend."

Derek wraps his arms around Stiles, noting the soft maroon sweater hanging loosely over Stiles's torso. "Are you wearing my—"

"Yeah," is the reply and Derek watches a blush rise on Stiles's chest and up his neck to his cheeks. "Doesn't smell like you anymore, but—"

Derek silences him by bringing their lips together. "Same," he says when they pull apart. He tugs the hoodie up, shyly, showing Stiles.

"Is that _my_—"

Nodding, Derek ducks his head to Stiles's chest. "Missed you. Missed this."

The room goes silent save for their breathing as they just lie together, legs tangling under the blankets. They fall asleep with Derek inhaling the aroma of cinnamon and vanilla, tinged with grease and leather that he associates with Stiles, with _home_.


End file.
